


The First One

by shulamithbond



Series: The Bane Chronicles [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Disability, Disabled Character, Grudge, Intimidation, Other, accommodation, power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shulamithbond/pseuds/shulamithbond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some extremely short scenes I wrote for fun and to characterize Darth Bane the First a little more, since she's not really a key player in my main Star Wars fic "The Order" (so far).</p><p>The first occurs while she was still alive, probably relatively early on during her regime. The second and third ones take place in the Afterlife after her death. Some spoilers for Part II of "The Order" on the third, but not much of a spoiler if you know the canon end of the storyline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Assistant

         The door to the stateroom buzzed open, and the apprentice stepped meekly through.

        As the door slid shut behind him, he sank to his knees on the cold metal floor, beyond the reach of the luxurious carpet that had been thrown across part of it, in prostration. “Ma”- _no, no, lower your voice,_ said the warning in his mind, which spoke in the voice of his _own_ master.

        _Remember what happened the last time you spoke too loudly._

        “Master,” the apprentice whispered. “We…the pilot says we land in a little less than an hour. I was sent back in case…in case you wished to prepare.”

       The room was almost completely dark, lit only by the soft, dim blue glow of a tiny bedside lamp. But from his position, chin just about scraping the floor, the apprentice could make out the shape rise from the bed, amid the nest of blankets and pillows. She sat up, and he could tell she was peering down at him.

        _Very well,_ came her voice, at last, in his mind. _Rise. Come here._

 

* * *

 

        The apprentice wouldn’t dare allow it to cross his mind in the presence of the Master, but he often wondered why no handmaidens could be brought along on a mission for this purpose. Apparently, the Master didn’t want to risk their lives, or so they were told. _But this is their job!_

       But now was not the time for such thoughts. In fact it was not the time for any thoughts, if the apprentice could help it. “And…um…my Master, which”- But she had already chosen and shown him her answer. He took the soft but rich black gown from the storage unit and laced her into it, and then she sat back down on the bed so that he could do up her boots ( _loosely; gently_ ). Over the dress he fastened the cloak of hers that was finest and billowed out the most, as well as the assortment of chains and necklaces she outlined for him telepathically. _No rings_ , she instructed, as an afterthought.

        Now came the part that always unsettled him, because it meant touching her, which left a staggering potential for error. But although the stiffness of her body and the psychic cloud of darkness he sensed in her mood indicated her discomfort, she contained herself as he carefully braided her hair – firmly enough that the plait would not fray, but loose enough that it would not cause her pain, either. Next, with the small, meticulous strokes of an artist, he applied the dark makeup to her lips and eyes, and painted the spidery, calligraphic Sith symbols onto her face.

        He considered humbly requesting that the room be brightened somewhat, for accuracy’s sake – but no. She was already accommodating much by allowing him to touch her; she would not take such a request kindly.

       And now it was time.

       She stood, and he fastened around her the scabbards of the two weapons from her quickly-growing collection that she most enjoyed: Qordis’ old lightsaber, and the ancient Sith blade she’d stolen from one of his displays the night of the Glorious Conquest. It was strong, well-made; but rusty, and blunt.

        But not too blunt to do its job.

       As he finished, her hand shot out and seized the hilt of the blade, withdrawing it. As he heard the metal sing in the silence, the apprentice felt his body seize up abruptly; he couldn’t move, except to breathe.

        He could hear his blood pound in his ears.

        She traced the tip of the blade down his cheek, and then slowly across his neck. He could not stifle the whimper from deep in his throat.

       _Do you know where I come from, boy?_

       His mouth and associated muscles seemed to be free. “Y-y-yes, m-m-Master…”

       _Do you know what this order did to me?_

       “Y-yes, m-Master, but p-p-please, t-that was b-before I was even”-

        _And do you know what I did to them?_

        “Y-yes, m-Master, but _p-please”-_

       _Silence._ She curved the blade just slightly, and then – a nick, a tiny cut, a second of pain and then the feeling of something trickling down his neck. He managed to hold his panic in check while he waited to see if she had killed him. Apparently, she hadn’t.

        _Not this time_.

       She released him, and he tumbled to his knees, trembling faintly. He watched her bring the blade up to her mouth, and run her tongue lightly over the spot he had bloodied, tasting appreciatively. _Get out._

       The apprentice nodded quickly and just barely remembered to bow before scrambling for the door. Once outside, he did not stop running until he had reached his quarters and hidden himself under his bunk, where he stayed until he felt better.


	2. Luminous Beings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These next two take place after she's dead.

  _The eternal Temple_

       

          The two were playing around on her throne. She also thought they might be talking about her, although she did not take very much notice of this.

         She entered silently but allowed her feet to be just audible on the smooth, wide steps that led up the dais. Clothed in filmy black, like smoke, she was little more than a shadow in the hall, until their eyes caught the movement and they saw her.

         The one not sitting on her throne reacted first. He fell silent, eyes growing wide and expression slack with horror. Mutely, he nudged his friend and pointed in her direction.

         She watched the color drain from the apprentice’s face, and watched him rise slowly from the chair with almost theatrical caution, even using a handful of his cloak to clumsily dust off the seat for her, before carefully backing away down the steps, intending to follow his friend, who had already streaked from the hall and who Bane had allowed to scurry off like the rat he was. For now.

         She watched him eye the doors; he was wondering if he could make it. Wondering if he could outrun her rage.

         She knew he couldn’t.

         Apparently he decided the same thing. He sank to the floor there on the steps before her as she settled herself into the chair, first down on his knees and then into a penitent crouch, as if he were praying before some shrine, his face mostly hidden in his arms. It was not visible from where she sat, but he was weeping and sniffling softly. She watched him raise his head momentarily to kiss the cool, smooth black stone of the step before him where her foot had briefly landed, and to give her an entreating look through the tears of terror pouring down his face.

         “Please, Master…” it was more a mantra than a request. “Please, Master, have _mercy_ …I’m so sorry, I’ll never do it again…it was all _his_ idea, and we weren’t mocking –“ he paused, realizing he’d get more over the lie than he would the actual incident. “Please, Master – please don’t _hurt_ me…”

          Bane let him sweat for a long moment, but she had no time for apprentices today in any case. <Get out of my sight,> she snapped.

          He looked up at her, hope springing over his features. “R-really?”

          _< GO!>_ The force of the thought sent him scrambling for the door as fast as he could.

 

* * *

 

 

         A hush settled over the Temple as the sky darkened and the eternal sea below them grew turbulent. It was a silent descending note, or a drop in pressure. Everyone could feel it.

         “She is here,” whispered Plagueis.

         They ran ahead and ducked into a stairwell just in time. Behind them, out in the corridor, masters and apprentices alike were falling back against the wall, cringing, leaving a wide path down the center of the floor; most were kneeling. The silence became deafening thanks to all the new voices it had gained.

          They heard the footsteps on the marble tiles before they saw her. When finally she passed their doorway, she was a hooded figure, sweeping slowly by like Death itself.

          The mass exhale came afterward.

         “Do not make loud noise or bright light when she is near, unless she allows it,” Plagueis advised. “Always wait for her to summon you. Otherwise, stay away from her.”


End file.
